


Stop Thinking, Idiot

by deankeptthecoat



Series: Destiel Oneshots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Depression, Drinking, Fluff, Forests, Impala, Kissing, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deankeptthecoat/pseuds/deankeptthecoat
Summary: Dean is depressed and alone, sitting on top of the impala and drinking his problems away, hoping something would come along to fix it. Cas listened.





	Stop Thinking, Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> First Destiel… anything? It’s the basis of a larger project I’m working on, and the end product will be different from this. Anyway, I rather like this seeing as how I’m not used to writing Destiel. I don’t expect this to get too Much attention but I really appreciate any I get! (Also posted on Tumblr)

It was quiet out. Of course it was- Dean was sat on top of the impala, beer in hand, all alone. He’d driven himself out to a little clearing he’d found in the woods some time ago, a little over a mile from the bunker. Sam had been breathing down his neck all week about something, what it was exactly he still hadn’t fully figured out- all he knew was that it was annoying the hell out of him. He needed an escape. So after half an hour of Sam bugging him over something or other, Dean stormed out and took Baby on a drive to the most peaceful place he could find, hoping to clear his thoughts.

Sadly, without the insane barking coming from his younger brother to distract him, Dean was thinking more than he had wanted to. He had come out here to relax and get himself together, not become a sad little crap. He had almost gone to a bar to drink his worries away, but he knew that that was the first place Sam would have looked for him. He was an alcoholic, not stupid. So instead, he drove to his private clearing and drank there.

The chilly air was calming, at least. The slight breeze did little to shove away all that was bothering Dean, but at least he didn’t feel as stuffed up and cramped as he did in the Men Of Letters bunker with Sam, or in a pub surrounded by nothing but other depressed man whores with drinking problems who were all too busy yapping their problems to the hot bartender to actually get their lives together. Not that Dean was any better than them. The fact that he had driven off from one of the few people who knew him best just for a six pack was proof of that.

‘Who cares, not like I can even get drunk anymore anyway,’ Dean thought, compulsively taking a swig from his bottle to prove it to himself.

But Dean refused to accept that he was the same as the drunks he saw at every bar he’d ever stepped foot in. As selfish as it might sound, Dean liked to entertain the thought that the weight on his shoulders was far heavier than any of theirs combined. If any of them had even a glimpse of what he carried with him every day, they’d buckle and drop dead in a second. It had almost killed Dean himself a couple times. Hell, who was he kidding- it had killed him a couple times.

The list was too long to say it all, Dean didn’t have a long enough night or enough alcohol to get through it all. But he challenged himself.

“Let’s see, Winchester,” he mumbled down to his beer. “How far can we get tonight, hmm? How depressed can we become over our own fuck ups this time?”

He took another swig, emptying the bottle. He didn’t put it away to get rid of later. Dean just let it drop down to the ground by the wheels of his precious car.

“Not protecting Sammy better, letting down Dad…” he began. This was near routine for him. It was like Dean had a record player in his mind that was set on loop, constantly reminding him of everything he’d done wrong in his entire life. But he rarely talked along to it out loud. Usually he kept it all within the confines of his own mind, to silently agree with the record. “Dragging Sam back into hunting, getting him killed. Getting Dad killed. And Ellen, Jo… Bobby, Sammy again.”

He sighed. Another bottle empty and he had no idea where it had gone. Soon enough Dean would have to either go drive himself to get another few packs, or just pass out in the car and wait until morning to return to the bunker. Not like he wasn’t used to sleeping alone in the impala. He was more than used to it. Didn’t mean Dean didn’t wish he could have someone with him, to at least keep him warm until he was sober enough to return to his brother and find another job or hunt, or stop another ‘End Of Days’.

‘Stop thinking, idiot. Go back to your lists.’

“The apocalypse.” he continued, trying to pull himself out of him lonely slump. “Ben and Lisa. “Another apocalypse. Our little roll in the mud with Crowley. Being a demon in general…and-”

“And me.”

Dean jumped at the sound of the voice behind him, almost falling off the roof of the impala and crashing onto the pile of broken bottles below. He turned, fingering his gun, which tucked safely into his belt, ready to blow out the friggin’ brains out of whoever had almost just gotten him killed, or at least left him with a couple more scars.

But his heart rate and gun dropped when he saw who was behind him. The familiar sight of the brunette in a trench coat and blue tie as bright as his eyes was plenty enough to calm Dean down a little bit.

“Cas…” He readjusted himself on the car. “You scared me.”

“And I could say the same thing about you.” The angel walked around the impala so he was standing in front of Dean.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, hmm?” Dean raised an eyebrow in an attempt to brush off whatever Castiel thought was going on.

“Dean, you do know I can read your thoughts when you’re calling for me, right?” Well there went that plan.

“What- since when?”

“Since the beginning of mankind.” Honestly, what other answer was he expecting. “Well, I couldn’t read your thoughts then because you weren’t born yet, but if another human were to call for me I could have-”

“Okay, Sylvia Browne, calm down.” Dean said.

“I’m not a fake psychic, Dean.” Cas said. Dean sometimes hated Metatron more than usual for giving Cas the ability to understand his references- it took away the fun of seeing the angel’s confusion when Dean did it. “I can actually read your thoughts. I do know when you’re calling for me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he shrugged.

“We both know that’s a lie.” Before Dean could argue, Cas pushed his almost empty pack of beers to the side and hopped up next to him. “I know what you were doing here.”

“Don’t think you need to read minds to see that I was busy wallowing in self hatred and alcoholism,” Dean smirked. “Now if you don’t mind, I was enjoying my nightly routine, so if you could just skadaddle that’d be fantastic.”

“Why was I one of your regrets?” Cas ignored Dean’s request to be alone. He just cut straight to the point.

“Wow, subtlety really ain’t your forte, huh?”

“Answer the question.”

“Who ever said I was saying you were one of my regrets?”

“Well, you were listing out a series of events outloud,” Castiel explained. “And I guess you were right- I didn’t need to look into your mind to know what they were all about, but it certainly did help. You were reminding yourself of everything you think you’ve ever done wrong, weren’t you? Now tell me- why was I one of them?”

“You just said you can read minds,” shrugged Dean. “Why can’t you just look for yourself.”

“You stopped calling, that’s why.”

Dean looked down at his beer. He had one other remaining, and now this bottle was almost empty itself. His flask was in the glove compartment; maybe he could use getting it as an excuse to both get even more drunk as well as to get away from the interrogations of the angel next to him. No, it wasn’t worth it. Dean knew how it would go. Cas would leave him alone, for now, only to run off and tell Sam that Dean was busy being upset again. And then they would try to get him to talk about it, he would say no and run off again or divert the subject, and the three of them would be left in the same positions they were in just before Cas had showed up behind him. He could let that happen like it had a million times before. It was just as routine as Dean drinking (or dying. Take your pick, Dean was okay with both).

Or he could avoid that. He could be daring and branch out into the unexplored territory of actually facing his problems. It really was an unusually path for Dean to even consider at all, he was comfortable keeping his walls up and lying about being fine.

But maybe it would be okay for him to be honest. Just this one time.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Dean admitted. “And I guess that does mean I stopped.”

“Why were you calling?”

“I was lonely.” Cas looked up at Dean, who failed to return his gaze. He kept himself busy by staring at his shoes. “I was lonely, sitting up here on top of my car, drowning myself in cheap beer and self pity. And I wanted someone to come and distract me. And, well- Sammy is kind of the reason I’m out here in the first place so he wasn’t the best choice.”

“But I was?” Dean shrugged in response. “Then why do you regret me? If you were calling out to me, asking me to come to you and keep you company, why do you say you think of me as a mistake?”

Silence. The only sound was of the wind passing through the leaves of the trees, blowing the occasional reds and oranges down to the earthy forest floor below. Did he dare break it? Dean finally looked up and met Castiel’s eyes. Even in the darkness of the night, the moonlight still reflected in his blue eyes. Dean could drown in those sea colored eyes and he would be perfectly content with it. He was faced with the same moral dilemma as before. Was what he’d just said enough for now? He could just lock himself back up in his own mind if he so pleased.

“I’m getting tired,” Dean hopped off the roof of his car in a nervous fit of trying to backtrack what he’d just done. “I’m gonna drive back to the bunker, you can come with if you want.”

“Dean.” Cas dropped down with him, his hand grabbed Deans, spinning him around so he was facing the angel once again.

“Cas.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, let me go.”

Cas didn’t let go. He squinted at Dean, as if he squinted just enough, he would be able to read Dean’s thoughts without his permission. Dean sighed. May as well give him what he wanted.

He relaxed physically, but he was screaming at himself not to start calling again. It’d turn into a fucking mess if he did, and a Winchester mess was infamous for being hard to clean back up. Pieces were always missing, loose ends always remained untied. Dean was probably the guiltiest of all the people in his family for this. But screw it- he had saved the world, what 5 times now? 6? The tension in his mind fell away when he let his shoulders drop and took deeper breaths, following all the motions of calming down, even closing his eyes.

As soon as he knew Cas was listening, he conjured up one. Single. Thought.

Cas’ hand fell away from his. It felt cold and empty now.

“Dean, I…” he said slowly.

“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to make up for the now absent warmth. “Yeah… now you know why I regret you.”

“That’s not a reason to regret anything.”

“What do you mean?” Dean scoffed. “Of course it is, especially for me.”

He turned away and started making his way back around to the drivers side of the impala. He needed to get out of this situation.

“Well… I don’t regret you.” That stopped Dean dead in his tracks.

“Cas… what the hell did you just say?”

“I said I don’t regret you.” The angel repeated himself. “It would be hypocritical of me if I thought that was a reason to.”

“We are talking about the same reason, right?” Dean with a chuckle. He slowly walked back to where Cas stood, still keeping a fair distance.

 

“Were you being totally honest?”

“Yes.”

The space Dean had left between him and Cas was gone. It had disappeared quicker than the now empty six pack of beers that he had left on top of the impala, and he still had no clue where either had gone. Dean couldn’t really complain about being this close to Cas, though. He had a lot of things he could bitch about but this definitely was not one of them.

“Then yes, we have the same reason.” Cas said softly.

Dean hovered right above Castiel, completely silent. No one had anything to say. Dean raised his fingers to Cas’ chin, tilting it up so that they were kissing.

It was just as amazing as Dean had dreamed. Better, even. They melted into each other, fitting together perfectly. The kiss wasn’t long, but when they pulled away they were both already craving more. Just one more. But they couldn’t. Dean could hear his cell phone ringing from inside the car, likely Sam calling him to question his whereabouts.

“We should go back,” Cas said, probably thinking the same thing.

“One more?”

Cas stepped up onto his toes and pressed his lips against Dean’s for no more than a second. He pulled away with a small smile on his face.

“Better than nothing I guess.”

Dean walked around the impala and opened the door. Right before he got in, Cas, who was standing next to the opened passengers-side door, spoke up.  
“Hey Dean?”

“Hmm?” he perked up.

“I love you.”

Dean smiled, for real, for the first in a while. “I love you, too.”


End file.
